Dark Lord in Chains 84 (Patreon)

In the end, this time, the decision didn’t require a long, stretched-out process where I measured a list of advantages and drawbacks. I had an incredibly beautiful — and incredibly deficiently dressed — beauty in front of me, lost in her pleasure enough to miss her own dress getting more and more inconsequential under, her arousal getting thicker and thicker under my fingers… 

There was definitely no question, I decided even as my fingers rose higher, only to land on the small of her back, climbing upward. I had no intention of avoiding her hips, of course, but I wanted her to think that I would as I climbed up her back quickly, covering her back with a generous amount of massage oil, even using the opportunity to add some more Tantric energy to the mixture to further enhance her arousal. 

I had to be careful around her wings, trying not to touch them, but luckily, isolating the heat as long as there was no direct touch was much easier — though, I had a feeling that, the challenge would have been much different if she was actively trying to weaponize those spectacular wings. 

Then, after that brief climb, I was back to the small of her back.  My return was not something she had any problems with. She was even kind enough to let a strained gasp inform me of her happiness whenever my fingers brushed against the lines of her ass. 

They were instinctual rather than deliberate as she slowly got lost in pleasure, of course, but that only made those cries more reliable. I decided to let my hands finally go and slide to her posterior. 

Of course, that move wasn’t without its own little decision, whether to do it over her dress, or let the dress melt away even more. I glanced toward her head, only to see her face buried in the pillow, moaning softly, with no inclination to stop me despite my fingers getting more and more dangerous, I decided that the dress would be just a pointless distraction. 

As I moved lower, my hands landing on her plump cheeks, the silvery fabric of the liquid dress avoided my touch, moving away, allowing me to caress her naked skin. She said nothing about my intrusion, which was more than enough as a permission under the circumstances. 

The moan she let out as I started getting closer and closer to her core, on the other hand, could be considered as active permission. Still, I decided to use the opportunity to push for the next step, but only after a minute, pushing her pleasure to the next level.  

“Feel free to tell me if you can’t handle it,” I said, my tone mild as I said so. I spoke slowly, because if there was one thing that was clear, she had an overinflated sense of ego. The implication of my words, linking her ability to handle it with her capabilities were dangerous enough, and an arrogant voice would have triggered it. 

Even at that moment, she raised her head, anger flashing in her gaze — one that was quickly replaced by panic as she took a notice of the current state of her dress. Yet, my earlier trick worked. As she took control of the dress and ordered it to grow back reflexively, any evidence of my tempering had been destroyed. 

“I see, you want to stop,” I said as I pulled my hands back. “As you wish,” I added even as I reached to plug the massage oil back, my tone extremely respectful. 

Yet, I was careful to push a dismissive glare on my face, one that only existed for a moment before getting removed, too short for her to point out, yet long enough for her to notice; the sudden flare of anger confirming that she had seen it. 

It was a risky trick. Under different circumstances, it would have triggered a dangerous reaction from her, but her arousal was high enough to impair her decision-making, turning that from a certain to a low possibility. 

Yet, there was no victory without taking the occasional risk, as her frozen expression showed me. 

Then, she followed it with something that actually managed to surprise me. “Who told you you can stop?” she said as she waved her hand, and her dress started shrinking once more, getting smaller and smaller until it turned into panties, trusting her prone stance to hide her breasts from my attention. “I was just fixing my dress, continue,” she ordered. 

It took every bit of my acting ability to maintain a respectful expression on my face rather than collapsing on the floor, cackling like a madman. I had already realized that she had a fragile ego, but reacting to such a degree, with such urgency… 

It was even more fragile than I had expected. 

How fun, I thought even as I put my hands on her ass, letting my fingers dance freely as I enjoyed the incredible texture of her skin, enough to prove her supernatural origin even without the impressive wings she had. 

And, speaking of wings, I noticed that the way flames were flickering on them had changed as I returned on her ass, mauling aggressively. The tongues of fire got longer, their movement was more chaotic, the color deeper. 

A beautiful sight, just not as beautiful as the view of her breasts, large and perky enough that laying on her chest was an imperfect solution to keep them hidden, their beauty enough to kill a weaker man. 

My fingers danced around her ass, getting closer and closer to her core, making her tense in anticipation and fear, only to pull back before she could react, bringing her closer and closer to the climax as I applied my unique brand of magic — both the literal kind in the form of Tantric, and the figurative kind in terms of skills. 

And, the combination worked wonders to build enough pressure to build her pleasure. While her panties provided an inconvenient barrier, and without their absence, I might have pushed to the next glorious stage. 

Pity that she wouldn’t be tricked by the same ploy twice. 

Instead, I waited until she was on the edge of climax before I grabbed her shoulder, and flipped her over before she could react. 

For a moment, I glanced at her wings, whether they would burn the room, but they didn’t, showing that despite their fiery nature, they didn’t burn things. 

Her arousal, right on the edge of a climax, was enough to slow down her reaction enough to allow me to grab her breasts and start teasing her nipples with the excuse of covering her body with oil, triggering her arousal. 

She bit her lips desperately, her otherwise arrogant face painted with shock as she tried to contain the invasion of pleasure. She failed to contain that, but to her credit, she managed to limit her reaction to a few errant soft moans. 

I would have loved to tease her about her achievement, but such verbal teasing would give her the excuse she needed to lash out. 

Luckily, that was not the only way of teasing her. 

While she dealt with the invasion of pleasure, I got another generous portion of massage oil and spread it all along her torso, her shoulders, and her stomach… 

Her breasts…

I would have loved to focus on her breasts, but after the initial brush that triggered her climax, I moved down to her stomach, continuing with a clinical precision massage — one that was enough to extend her little climax. 

She looked at me angrily as her arms twitched, making me wonder whether she wanted to cover her breasts or raise them to blast me with a cone of fire — I had never seen her cast an offensive spell, but her element of choice was not a difficult guess. 

I turned away from her face, just enough to make it plausible for me to notice her sudden flare of anger. She swallowed it soon enough — though it left hints on the surface — once again the pointless form of pride was more efficient than chains to lead her decisions. 

I couldn’t help but smirk even as I let my magic invade through her stomach once more, exploring the way her magic flowed under her skin even as I enjoyed her softness — the anger made her magic flow faster, which in turn allowed me to learn more about her casting abilities. 

Not everything I had found was good news, of course. The deeper I got into her body, the more I started to realize just how much power she had underneath her beautiful body, ready to be leveraged to create a natural disaster. 

Yet, even as I noticed the immensity of her power, my confidence in handling her in case of a magical altercation increased. Pure power was not everything, and knowing the secrets of an opponent would help greatly to the victory — especially if one could set the pace rather than just defending passively. Every second I spent on her body, the higher my chances of my victory were becoming. 

Though that didn’t change my intention of avoiding such a battle in any condition, for a few reasons. First, with dozens of constructs in the place, it wouldn’t be a fair battle — though even thinking about the concept of fairness in a battle was amusing — and second, a battle would have ruined half of the capital. 

Even under the ‘best’ of circumstances, it was not a commotion I wanted to be a part of, and the battle of two mysterious factions, strong enough to treat the Empire and Dark families as chess pieces, was hardly the best of circumstances. 

Instead, I focused on the massage once more, letting my fingers climb up, brushing against the edge of her breasts…